The dark times
by Ptronille
Summary: What an observant PC might have seen in Baldur's Gate 1... Rather dark, especially the allusion in the first chapter (fair warning). Snippets pertaining to Dynaheir, Branwen, Jaheira and yourself. Reviews appreciated.
1. Dynaheir

You see it as soon as you meet her.

The gnolls were not alone in their fortress. They were too stupid to think of patrols and ambush, too much driven by instinct not to devour their catch immediately, for them to be alone in there. No, the gnolls had been commanded by a handful of men, whom you had seen as they were falling under Minsc's blade, and your own. There were men in that fortress, and Dynaheir stayed there for several days before you found her – alive.

And you know as soon as you meet her, from one woman to another, what it is they did to her.

That night near the campfire, you seek her with your gaze to make sure that she is safe, and she meet it with her own dark eyes of pooled shadows. She does not say anything, but she acknowledges it with her look, that you are right. And then she glances away, at Minsc, and you understand what she is trying to tell you – that she does not want him to know. That he blames himself enough with his failure to avoid her abduction without adding that particular burden to it. Privately, you think that perhaps she does not want him to know of her shame.

Over the days you see her struggling to go back to normal, doing her best not to flinch away from Minsc's spontaneous hugs and pats. And sometimes you see the ranger stealing glances at his witch, pondering and deep unlike anything Minsc normally is. You wonder if, by any chance, he doesn't _know_. You wonder if these apparent oblivious instances of physical contact aren't his own way of helping his witch reacquaint herself with human touch. And one day as he lays a carefree hand on Dynaheir's arm and does not seem to notice her shifting her weight, he happens to meet your gaze and he gives a small grateful smile. For there is a tacit agreement between the two of you, that you will not tell her of your knowledge.

It is a strange dance you dance, the three of you; the witch who pretends nothing is wrong and indulges the normal behavior of her protector; the ranger who knows and pretends to be oblivious to protect his ward's feelings; both of them knowing that you know but pretending you don't; and you, who plays along both of their tunes.


	2. Branwen

You rarely see her falter or unsure because every day she holds herself straight-backed and vigilant, arms at the ready to smite her enemies with the might of her god. But at times when she thinks she is alone or no one is looking, you see her gaze stretching far away to planes unknown, and you know she thinks of before. Before she got turned into a statue, before the world she knew was no more, before she woke up decades later, in a world which for all intents and purposes was alien. Mayhap she thinks of friends or family, of distant acquaintances and chance meetings, of people she remembers but never really knew. Mayhap she thinks they are all dead.

And then she shakes herself and turns back to you, and throws herself in battle with the name of Tempus on her lips.

And you think that, perhaps, if she is so touchy about her god, it is because he is the only thing she has left.


	3. Jaheira

She does not let you know she is suffering. She is the healer of the group, and your elder by many years, her experiences far and wide, and she stands as your right arm, your advisor and the voice of reason in all that madness. She does not wish to let you on that she is suffering. But it is there, in how briskly she speaks of Gorion before she changes the subject. It is there in how she sometimes disappear to gather herbs when you know she would never let her pouch be remotely close to empty. It is there in her no-nonsense attitude, in her lust for vengeance, in her angry tirades, in her husband's own admission that she didn't use to frown so much. It is there, too, in the way she looks at you, at your mannerisms, and smiles fondly before the realization that it is not your father she is looking at wipes it off her face.

And next you look at Khalid's attentions for her, the loving looks and shy smiles, and you understand, that his occasional touches are not so much of affection as of comfort, for his wife who lost her best friend and will not let herself grieve.


	4. You

And then there is you, you who lost her father, you whom countless assassins are trying to kill, you who finally learns that the reason for it all is not something that you will ever be rid of, for it is in you, in your blood, in your soul, and not even your death would free you from that dead god's claws.

You have run away from the fear, you have cried from the fear, you have hated yourself because of the fear, and now you know that it will never leave you, that you will never be left alone, and the fear submerges you. And with it comes an anger, at yourself for the weakness, at your dead fathers, the one who sired you and the one who left you, at the fates for the cruel joke – an anger, a dark pulse that beats in time with the blood in your body, that coils around your heart and lurks behind your mind, waiting, waiting, waiting for its hour to come. A beast ready to pounce the moment you slip. And you slip, often, in battle most often, but you never take that last one step, that would allow it to roam free. You do not surrender, because that fear which gave it birth is also that which keeps it in; you fear, indeed, what you would do to the outside world if that thing was unleashed.

If _you_ were unleashed.

There is fear and anger in your heart, and it seems those two would be enough to fill your heart, great as they were, but grief has its home there, too, for the lives you lost – your father chief among them –, for the lives you took, for the life you might have lived if you had been anyone else. And somehow, by a miracle you are grateful for, there is still room for those who come with you, your faithful companions. Friendship, compassion, affection, love, they are still there, perhaps heightened by the battle they lead every day not to give in to the dark times.


	5. Human nature

You look at them all, and you look at yourself, and you see how harsh it is on you all. All dealing with their own personal hell, and you one of them. But then you clear your throat that choked up, and when they look back at you, you give them the order.

"Let's move on."

Because that's what people do.


End file.
